Read ABSOLUTION (A Frank Renzi novel) for Free Online

crap the profilers dish out: white male, mid-thirties, blah, blah, blah. Our UNSUB could be black. Sixty percent of New Orleans area residents are black.”
    Frank saw Miller straighten in his chair. The NOPD Superintendent was African-American, as were many high ranking officers and a number of the rank and file, but Miller and one local FBI agent, a female, were the only African-Americans on the taskforce, a situation that many leaders in the black community cited as unfair.
    Norris jutted his jaw, extended his neck and tugged at his collar with a forefinger. “Christ, we’re doing everything we can to find this guy. One of the families wants to bring in an outside consultant.”
    Frank stifled a smile. That’s why Norris was so hot under the collar. He didn’t want anyone to hire some big shot former FBI agent, didn’t want a serial killer expert grabbing the spotlight. Last month an FBI analyst from the Behavioral Sciences Unit had come down to consult on the case. Frank didn’t know the man, but he had graduated from the FBI National Academy ten years ago when he was with Boston PD. His NOPD boss had cited this when recommending him for the taskforce. But ever since the FBI consultant praised some of Frank’s ideas, Norris had either disregarded his theories or disagreed with them. Insecure people did you in every time.
    “ Why do you think the killer might be a cop?” Frank asked.
    “ It’s the uniforms.” Norris flashed a condescending smile. “Young women tend to submit to authority figures in uniform.”
    No kidding. And plenty of women hit on cops. Frank knew this from personal experience. But that didn’t mean the serial killer was a cop.
    “ Could be other reasons a young woman might let somebody in,” he said. “Maybe the killer disguises himself as a woman.”
    “ Like the guy in Dressed to Kill ?” Norris said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “You’re watching too many movies, Renzi.”
    “ Yeah? Well, I guess I won’t be watching any this weekend.”
    He got up and left the office. Men like Norris always wanted the last word, but fuck that. Norris wanted him to sniff his dick, but he hadn’t done it yet and he didn’t plan to, not now, not ever.
    _____
     
    To work off the negative energy he power-walked the perimeter of the parking lot, arms pumping, angry thoughts churning his mind. During the second circuit he found himself wondering what Norris, a man in a too-tight collar, did in bed with his wife. Robo-sex by the rules, probably.
    He got in the Crown Vic and told himself to cool it. He couldn’t afford to alienate Norris. He needed this job, needed the money to pay Evelyn’s alimony and Maureen’s tuition, not to mention his own expenses. Even under the best of circumstances he hated taking orders. As a taskforce member, he was a tiny cog in a big machine. He wanted to drive the machine.
    Unfortunately, Norris was in the driver’s seat. But why?
    Cui bono? Who benefits? A question he’d often heard posed by his father, the Honorable Judge Salvatore Renzi, while seated on the bench of the Massachusetts State Court of Appeals.
    The benefit to Norris was a no-brainer: make a big splash and advance his career. The picture in his office said it all: a big golf trophy for Mr. Big Shot. For Norris, catching the sick fuck that got off on killing and mutilating women was a career move, not a passion. But Norris was a sprinter, with no stomach for a long investigation. Now that they had a fourth victim Norris was desperate to nail the killer.
    The more complicated question: Why put Norris in charge of the taskforce? First and foremost: to deal with the media. Turn on the cameras and Norris was Elliot Ness, fighter for justice, defender of women, community savior. Second, Norris followed the Ten Commandments of Law Enforcement: kick ass when you can, kiss ass when you can’t, and always play by the rules, a strategy that had won him the job of Assistant SAC in Atlanta.
    The third, and